Antithesis
by Sanjuku
Summary: Sometimes, he just needs a little push, and I reserve that duty only for myself. HachimenroppixTsukishima; kink meme fill.
1. Chapter 1

In the city of Ikebukuro, among the literary world, there are two major publishing firms.

Now, it is well known that the heads of these firms, two men by the names of Izaya Orihara and Shizuo Heiwajima, are not on good terms with each other. In fact, many speculate that the second firm, YS Publishing, was only created in order to hinder the efforts of the first firm, Dollars Publishing. This doesn't seem too unlikely to me; I've met both men on several occasions, and their grudges for each other extend even to the hours that they aren't in the same area. It's a vicious sort of cycle. Dollars will get a new author to join their team, and YS will dive in to offer a better deal. YS will snag a promising author, and Dollars will be there in a heartbeat with something more tempting.

Working at Dollars Publishing gives me a firsthand view of this rivalry. I'm among many of the staff who have lost authors to YS. I'm also among the many staff who have gained an author from YS.

My latest charge, however, is not originally from either company.

Tsukishima is new, in the eyes of writers, and yet he's already put out two bestselling novels. A few of the more jealous ones complain that he must be stealing work from some other author, and I would have briefly considered that possibility had it not been for the fact that I had pretty much watched him write his second book.

"Roppi-san, I'm doing a book signing tomorrow, right?"

I don't look up from reading his latest manuscript as I reply, "That's right." It'll be his first session, and I'm sure that I'll have to deal with constant questions even hours before. Things like-

"Will there be a lot of people there?"

Well, things like that. I sigh. It's probably not a good idea to tell the truth (judging from how famous he's gotten, the place will be overflowing with people), since he'll just get scared and I'll have to deal with even _more _anxious inquiries. "I don't know, Tsukishima."

"How long will it last?"

"About three hours. Here, I'm done." I hand the stack of papers back to him. I might not be his editor, but he still asks me to help out sometimes. As long as he's not asking me to write a ten page critique I figure that it won't hurt to have a fresh set of eyes look his work over before he sends it in, and I'm not being conceited when I say I give good advice. I've been in this business for years- that's just how it is. I snap the cap onto my pen with finality. "Well, I'll see you tomorrow. It's about time I head off."

Tsukishima is already studying my suggestions, crimson eyes concentrating hard. He glances back at me with a smile and nods. "Thank you so much, Roppi-san!"

I frown, disliking how I'm immediately at ease after this. Truthfully, I wouldn't have left until he'd paid attention to me, but that's normal for communication, right? Never mind that I've walked out on my authors without even saying goodbye before.

"Make sure you get up early tomorrow morning," I remind Tsukishima abruptly, and stand up quickly in order to take my leave.

:

This, I decide the next day, is my least favorite part about working with Tsukishima.

"Roppi-san, there're so many people out there!" The blonde exclaims with wide eyes. A mixture of excitement and nervousness is clear in every movement he makes. "What if they're expecting too much? Ah, I'm going to mess up, I know it!"

Who thought it was a good idea to let him know about the rather large crowd outside, anyways?

"Calm down. There's no way you'll mess up," I say. I don't know if just that is reassuring enough, but it'll have to do because he's already being announced outside, and there are murmurs of expectation that can be heard even through the door of the back room we're situated in. Tsukishima shoots me a look of panic. "Tsukishima, just take deep breaths and don't freak out." Really, they should have added 'Must Be Able To Appear In Front Of Crowds' to the job description. I know that he hates being the center of attention, but seriously, those people out there love him. It isn't like he's going to be met with jeers and teasing.

Biting his lip, Tsukishima inhales slowly. I roll my eyes and open the door, taking a light hold on his sleeve and pulling him forward.

Sometimes, he just needs a little push, and I reserve that duty only for myself.

:

About halfway through the signing, a pair of oddly dressed people walk into the bookstore. I notice them right away because of the sheer amount of _pink _on their person. It's vaguely sickening, really. I can't help but glance down at my own red and black combination.

Much better.

Well, I suppose that they're not the only strangely dressed people here. I'm incredibly amused to see that there's one boy who is dressed up as one of Tsukishima's characters, complete with the crown and brown cape. He wears an impatient expression as he waits in the long line, crossing and uncrossing his arms, lips quirked downwards. He turns his nose up and edges away from one of the newcomers- the tall blonde man with pink and white headgear covering his ears. The shorter man with black hair and the same color combination bounces up and down lightly next to him. A sinking feeling permeates my gut as I watch them get into line.

Perhaps it's just because the taller one looks suspiciously business-like, and even though the other one appears to be an enthusiastic fan, neither are carrying a book for Tsukishima to scribble his signature in, but I feel that their intrusion can mean nothing good for me.

It's twenty minutes until the costumed boy walks out pompously, and the duo arrives at the table that my author is situated.

He's gotten used to the crowd, and he greets the two with a small smile, his mouth forming a thank you for being here. I've been standing at a fair distance away, observing, but as the shorter of the two begins to chatter happily and helpless confusion creases Tsukishima's eyebrows, I stride over just in time to overhear part of the short man's speech.

"...and this is Delic, who would be your manager if you decided to join our team! He's really great at his job, you know! Oh, and I'm Psyche. You'll join us, right? Right? It'll be so fun! Dollars is really boring compared to YS Publishing, Tsuki-kun."

It takes me only a second to realize what's happening and that I should have expected a stunt like this. Tsukishima has been backed into a corner- he has people waiting on him, and if he refuses right off the bat, Psyche will only continue to hold up the line and list reasons why the blonde should transfer. Even more vexing is the fact that he wholeheartedly believes everything he's saying, and that conviction in itself might have been able to pull a yes from a potential author's lips. "Excuse me," I say, tapping on Psyche's shoulder, "but we're in the middle of signing here. If you have some business with my author, please contact him later." I linger purposely on a certain two words. I've been with Tsukishima since the beginning of his career, and no way am I letting these two get him that easily.

"Oh," Psyche looks genuinely surprised. "I'm very sorry! You must be...um...Hachimenroppi-san, right? I've heard about you!" He turns back to Tsukishima with a smile. "I'll be sure to get back to you later, Tsuki-kun! Good luck!" I step back with a frown, watching as the two head away. Delic hadn't even said anything the whole time, just stood there, disinterestedly surveying the store. YS Publishing was aiming to replace me with a man like that? I would've at least talked to the author a little bit, introduced myself, and then let Psyche go on his little tangent.

But even that wasn't my biggest concern. No. The biggest question on my mind was- would Tsukishima treat Delic the same way that he treats me?

:

"You did a good job," I tell Tsukishima after the ordeal is over and we're back at his apartment, eating takeout with about the same amount of enthusiasm as a barely filled helium balloon floating into the air. The pitter-patter of rain taps a greeting against the windows; the light drizzle had begun during our trip home and intensified as we ran inside the building. I can't help but be utterly relaxed at the moment, because the rain and Tsukishima's quiet demeanor are the closest things I can get to someone else's equivalent to a glass of wine or a bar of chocolate.

He gives me a grateful smile. "It was fun after it stopped being scary."

"I don't see why it was scary in the first place. You should expect these kinds of things," I say seriously, but my lips twitch ever so slightly at the corners.

"T-Then, I'll do better next time."

Tsukishima's insistence is predictable, just like his determination to try harder. I've worked with authors that think everything they do is perfect, or that I'm just trying to boss them around, and I'm guessing that the latter is in part due to the coldness I usually exude. It isn't like I do it on purpose, however- and Tsukishima is one of the few people to understand that. "You did fine, as I said earlier. Book signings are nothing to get worried about."

"Have you been to many other book signings, with other authors?"

"Of course." I'm a little surprised at the melancholy note that weaves through the writer's words.

"Ah," he replies, staring down at the table, "because you seemed really used to my reaction, Roppi-san." Tsukishima gives a nervous laugh for reasons entirely unknown to me.

"Hm?" is my eloquent prompt for explanation. I'm too reposed to garner anything intelligent at the moment.

"Um...never mind," he chuckles again in the same exact inflection. The blonde shuffles around a bit, trying to get comfortable, and then asks, "Roppi-san, would you like to stay over tonight? I know it's pretty late, so..." Blushing faintly, he picks at his folded paper napkin.

I don't think people realize how timid authors are sometimes. Tsukishima is acting like he just asked me to go on a date. "That would be great, actually."

"I'll take the couch-"

"Don't bother," I cut him off, waving my hand dismissively. "I'm used to it."

Tsukishima looks as if he wants to complain, but nods. "Okay." I watch as he plucks up our excess food and trash, going to drop it into the trash can carefully. That's one of the many things I like about him; he always concentrates to make sure he's doing something right, even when it's a simple task such as throwing plates away. Of course, every so often he'll fail, I note amusedly as a plastic fork tumbles down and misses the bin. Tsukishima glances over at me with a comically mortified expression and dives down to grab it.

"What time is it?" I ask, sparing both him and myself from an apology for something that isn't even his fault.

"U-...um," he straightens and pulls his sleeve up to stare at his watch, the white scarf wrapped around his neck close to covering his mouth as his neck tilts downwards, "It's about nine."

"Hm...still too early to go to bed," I muse, shutting my eyes as I decide to go into a full-body stretch. A soft sigh follows the action. "Got anything to do?"

"Not really," he admits hesitantly, and I'm reminded that as an author he probably spends most of his free time writing. Part of me wants to ask him what he thought of Psyche and Delic's proposal...but I don't know if I want to know.

We spend the evening discussing novels, as comes with our occupation, and then climb under blankets and into sleep.

:::::

_Original prompt:_

_"**Hachimenroppi/Tsukishima**- territorial_

_Tsuki's a bestselling author and Roppi happens to be his agent/manager. A rival publishing company swoops in and tries to buy out Tsuki's contract and get him to favor a new manager. Roppi finds himself displeased. For several reasons."_


	2. Chapter 2

I can't decide which I hate to be woken up by more- the phone or the light pouring through Tsukishima's windows. Grumbling to myself, I roll over and bury my head into my pillow, trying to drown out the sight and the sound until I remember just who _could _be calling.

I'm sad to say that the _could _is enough incentive to drag me out from under my blanket and for me to call out, "I'll get it!" to Tsukishima, who I can hear tripping out of bed in his own room. I have no idea why he bothers to keep a home phone, since no one ever really calls him on it except for me when I need to. I pluck the device up and open my mouth to ask who's calling as casually as possible.

Before I can even get the first syllable out, a voice begins to talk in a tone that is _painfully _peppy for first thing in the morning.

"Hello, Tsuki-kun? It's Psyche, from yesterday! I heard your signing went really well, so congratulations!" A peal of laughter resonates through the receiver. "Well, now that that meany Roppi-chan isn't there, we can discuss your transfer! I have all the paperwork ready, so-"

My finger is pressing on the button to hang up before I even realize that it was probably one of the worst things I could do. Go me, proving Psyche's assessment right; I couldn't even stand to let Tsukishima _talk _to him.

"Who was it?" The writer is suddenly right behind me, yawning and rubbing sleepily at his eyes. He's still in his pajamas, and his hair is sticking off slightly to one side. I'm disgusted only because my first thought is that he looks _cute _and that just makes no sense at all.

"Wrong number," My lie is delivered stiffly, and I frown, knowing that I probably look vaguely pissed off and it won't get past Tsukishima. The fabrication will be disproven in a minute anyways, when Psyche calls back. I didn't even think about that when cutting him off. Frustration will do that to me- tear holes in my judgment.

The phone in my hand rings again, and I hand it over to Tsukishima and glance away. Staring at me in befuddlement, he bites his lip slightly and answers it.

"H...-Hello?" Suddenly, his mouth curls into a shy grin. "Oh, Tsugaru! How are you? Ah, sorry for missing it, I need to charge my cell phone." And just by that one name, relief washes over me. Tsugaru is one of Tsukishima's author friends. He's not a part of either company, and he's not as big as Tsukishima is, but he's a great writer and I've tried to recommend him to Izaya once or twice. Unlike others, he's perfectly fine with being little-known. "I can head out there this afternoon, if that's alright?" My gaze is drawn inexplicably to the dock of the phone as Tsukishima makes what I assume are plans for a visit.

The small, glowing green screen shows that while the blonde is chatting with Tsugaru, he's missing another call from Psyche.

I decide then and there that out of all authors, Tsugaru has to be my second favorite.

"I'm going to visit Tsugaru at around three," Tsukishima informs me after getting off the phone, and I nod my approval, mentally reviewing his schedule and finding nothing. Luckily for me he didn't notice the missed call, and Psyche seems to have given up for now. I only hope that it won't be today that he tries to get in touch with Tsukishima again. "Um, but Roppi-san, can I talk to you about the thing yesterday with-"

"Are you hungry?" It's childish of me to stick fast to the belief that if I don't give him a chance to speak, he won't be able to do anything, but I can't stop myself from jumping to change the subject. "It's probably around breakfast time."

"Well, yes, but..." Tsukishima drops the issue just as I hoped that he would, even though I feel a bit guilty at his troubled countenance. I list off our meal possibilities, all the while wondering; when did this business get so _complicated_?

:

Tsuki didn't get to visit with Tsugaru as much as he would have liked to. More often than not, their schedules were conflicting, due mostly to Tsuki's rising fame. It made the blonde feel a small bit at fault that he was the one who'd gained fans quickly, and not Tsugaru, who'd been writing for a good number of years longer than he had. The author's house was teeming with animals- Tsuki had never bothered to ask how many roamed the property that Tsugaru had inherited on the outskirts of the city, but he was fairly certain that once he'd counted out six dogs, four cats, five birds and a rabbit.

Once, a while ago, Tsuki had worked up to bravado to inquire as to why Tsugaru kept them all instead of giving them away. The older man had merely chuckled lightly and explained that he didn't exactly know. He just felt more comfortable being surrounded by animals, he said. Tsuki could understand that; he didn't think he'd be able to write without the sounds of Ikebukuro humming around him. One of Tsugaru's ginger felines was draped across his lap as he typed leisurely on a compact blue laptop. Tsuki could hear the animal purring from his position next to the writer, and he made an attempt to peer at the prose on the screen as inconspicuously as he could.

"What are you working on?" Tsuki's curiosity finally won out.

"I'll be done in a second, I promise," Tsugaru answered apologetically. In an absentminded motion he scratched the cat behind the ear, still typing with his other hand. The animal looked all the more blissful and arched its neck into its owner's fingers.

Tsuki shook his head. "No, it's okay, I don't mind." He liked the sound of typing. Maybe it was a little weird, but he found it to be calming, just like Roppi calmed him down all the time. Tsuki wondered what his manager was doing now, even though it was highly probable that he was sleeping, since he'd asked if he could stay at Tsuki's apartment while he was out. He really hoped that Roppi hadn't been considerate enough to use the couch again. After all, if Tsuki wasn't using his bed, then he had free reign of it, right?

He flushed at the thought. Tsugaru glanced at him with a smile, but said nothing about it.

"Alright. I'm finished." Instantly Tsuki perked up, startling the cat a bit, who stared coldly at him in a way that reminded him of Roppi in proven situations. "You seem like you have something you want to talk about," Tsugaru went on to observe, not unkindly.

Tsuki hesitated. Yes, he did have something he wanted to get his friend's advice on, but it wasn't often that he confided his worries to other people and he didn't know if Tsugaru would be bothered by him. "Um..."

"Did YS Publishing start trying to recruit you? It's about time they did."

Blinking, Tsuki mused to himself that Tsugaru could be scarily intuitive. "I'm sorry..."

"What? Don't apologize, you deserve it."

"Thank you, but...I don't really know what I'm going to do about it yet."

"Oh, I'm not saying you need to do anything about it," Tsugaru laughed, pushing his laptop away without disturbing the cat. "It just means you've gotten really good."

"Should I switch companies?" Tsuki frowned worriedly. He'd done his research, and the two firms seemed to be on about the same level of reliability for writers. The blonde sort of wanted to try something new, but...

"Work wherever you're comfortable," Tsugaru said, "I've heard good things about both Dollars and YS."

He thought on that, mumbling, "I'm...comfortable with Roppi-san, though."

"Maybe a little too comfortable?" Tsuki began immediately to protest until he saw that the light in Tsugaru's eyes was only teasing. "Have you talked to him about it?"

"It seems like he won't let me," confessed Tsuki, mentally wincing.

Tsugaru sighed and shook his head, although he wore a grin. "Then don't let him stop you."

:

It's been about three hours since Tsukishima left for Tsugaru's, and I am bored out of my mind. I've never been one for television, so I don't even strain myself to turn the device on. I resort to sitting and staring at a wall for about ten minutes, but am quickly disinterested in that, as all humans are inclined to be when not in action. Locating the blonde's copy of 'Romeo and Juliet' only serves to entertain me for a half an hour.

'A plague on both your houses', indeed. I snort. Stupid publishing firms and their rivalries. I carefully replace the book onto my author's bookshelf.

I won't deny that the reason that I asked Tsukishima if I could stay at his apartment while he was gone was so that I could be there when he got back. The only thing left to do while I waited would be to sleep, which, thinking of it now, might have been the best idea all along. I glance at the couch, and then over to Tsukishima's bedroom door. His bed is most likely much more cozy, and he would never know if I chose to take a nap there. I'm contemplating whether if I turn my head just so into his pillow if it will smell exactly like him or not- and as soon as my imagination arrives at that thought, I'm arranging covers and pillows that smell only like clean and detergent around myself.

Just because I am human and have human emotions doesn't mean that I have to give in to them, but I don't take consolation in the fact that I'm just being more human by being stubborn.

I'm at the point where I'm feeling drowsy that a series of knocks is thumped on Tsukishima's door. _Thump-thud-a-dump-dump, thump-thump. _

Taking advice from my experience of never having heard an adult knock on a door in a rhythm like that, I assume that it's some kid and don't even twitch from my comfortable cocoon of warmth. The beats come again, louder this time. Only when they announce themselves a third time do I growl and extricate my limbs from the pile. It can't be Tsukishima; his knocking is soft and timid, as if he's afraid of disturbing the person on the other side. I swing open the doorway and smooth down the bed head I've acquired.

Oh, hell.

"Roppi-chan?" chirps Psyche, peering at me curiously. "What are you doing here? Is Tsuki-kun there? I decided to come check on him, you know, after he picked up the phone and all I heard was someone breathing, and then poof, nothing! I even tried to call back o make sure he was okay," the dark-haired man babbles, and something about the calculating edge to his smile has me thinking that he knows _exactly_who it was that hung up on him.

"He's not here right now," I say with forced calm.

Psyche's eyes widen in surprise. "Oh? He lets you stay here while he's out? That's awfully trusting, isn't it? I mean, I've never seen a manager and an author so close before! That's really great! I'm almost sorry he's going to transfer, Roppi-chan," he adds, gazing at me mournfully.

I offer a tight-lipped smile in response, placing a steady hand on the doorframe. "You don't know that yet."

"Maybe, but you don't know if he's going to stay, either," Psyche replies amiably, shifting from one foot to the other. "Say, Roppi-chan, you're pretty territorial, aren't you? Managers don't usually go this far," he muses, "but I guess if I had a great author like Tsuki-kun I wouldn't want to let others reap the benefits either."

Stiffening immediately, I'm certain that my stare is icy. "That's not why-" I cut myself off; it would be stupid of me to let slip my reasons for wanting to keep Tsukishima to an enemy. It's too late, though, because understanding is dawning in the other's expression.

"Well, that's interesting! Roppi-chan, now I'm really sorry I have to take him away. But don't worry; he probably won't miss you too much!"

And that statement delivered with such cheer is too much for me to stand, too much for me to let slide. _"He was mine first,"_I hiss, shoulders tensed, and it's so cliché that Psyche is the first person to hear this out loud that the one thing that could possibly make it worse would be for Tsukishima to turn the corner just in time to hear me say it.

Which, of course, he does.


	3. Chapter 3

I meet Tsukishima's gaze without meaning to, almost flinching at the blatant look of surprise shining through it. To think, he hasn't even realized how possessive I'm being.

"Tsuki-kun!" My eyes are drawn to Psyche once again, who has twirled around to spot my author. I want to wipe the triumphant grin off of his face, but I don't make any movements towards him, instead choosing to recompose myself as the other man nearly skips towards Tsukishima.

I don't get angry often; Psyche and I are the same height, but for a moment, I felt as if I towered over him.

"So, I brought all the paperwork, and I can tell you all you need to do, so it'll be really easy-" Another rush of bitterness swells up inside me. Psyche chatters on while Tsukishima tries to seek out my eyes for a repeat of that moment of communication. "I'm so excited; it'll be so fun-"

And I step back and close the door quietly, controlled. I'm not willing or capable to listen to any more of this. All I can think about as I sit down heavily on his couch is the time I first met Tsukishima, when he was even more reserved and nervous around me, when I'd thought that I could never get along with someone like that-

The apartment door opens with a tiny click and closes again. I can catch the all too audible sounds of Psyche leaving, hopping down the stairs. Still able to feel the simmering hatred pooling in my stomach, I focus my breathing, telling myself to relax. This is the only incident I can count Tsukishima's weight sinking down next to me on the sofa to be unsettling.

"Roppi-san?" he starts hesitantly and I sigh inwardly at the sheer awkwardness of it all. It's so stonily silent that I hear rather than see the blonde tug habitually at his scarf. "If...if you really meant that, then...um, I told Psyche that..." I should be sad. I should be disappointed. I've obviously made up Tsukishima's mind for him by allowing him to overhear my statement, but I all I can feel is _angry_. **Mineminemineminemine, **coupled with a yearning that I know precisely how to name. It's reminding me just why I don't like to get close to people. "I told him that he might as well recruit you to, because...um, I really want to stay with you, Roppi-san," Tsukishima continues shyly. My head snaps up just in time to view him hiding his blushing cheeks within the white fabric wrapped around his neck.

I can't help the plea for confirmation that slides past my lips. "What?"

"Um, to be honest, I really want to try something new...ah, not that Dollars is bad! But just a change, um...but I think that I wouldn't...be as happy with someone that's not you," The mumbled sentence ends more like a question. "I...I might like you a little more than I should, and, and I'm completely okay if you feel a little jealous!" He rushes this out as if he doesn't want to lose his nerve, fists clenching tightly in his lap.

Relief, relief, relief is replacing my dull rage, like tide slowly coming up on the beach. Maybe Tsukishima has been blinded by his tendency to pick out only the good in people, but maybe I've been blinded by my own territorial nature. "Do you have feelings for me, Tsukishima?" I avoid the word _love_ simply because _love_is too big an idea for me to comprehend but maybe, maybe, there's someone who can help me with that.

Garnet eyes so like mine slip close, panic stricken. "Y-..yeah."

"They say you shouldn't mix business with pleasure," I say after a pause as if commenting on the weather, but I'm picking my words carefully. Tsukishima's easily readable expression drops. "but they also say that you can't be a writer and be happy."

He's purely pensive for a moment. I'm fine with that; I've said my bit while retaining my dignity, and I'm not expecting a long-winded romantic confession from him.

:

"You're kind of confusing, Roppi-san," laughs Tsukishima shortly after a while, playing with the end of his scarf. "Um, but I think I know what you're trying to say, so...I've always been your author, you know? That probably sounds weird, but...um, I won't go to YS if you don't want to..."

Some part of me vaguely registers that he sounds hopeful about YS, but I don't think he's realized what he's done. _Your author._ He doesn't realize how much him saying that he's _my author _makes me want to push him down on the couch and show him how much of mine he really is, because I know that he'd let me. But he's waiting for my next words.

We'll just dance around the bigger point like this; Tsukishima is too shy to be straightforward and I can't cast off my crippling pride. He's looking me in the eye now, finally, and he's got that stupid _blush _that's only endearing on him. I'll ease him into it, I decide then.

I lean up to kiss him before he can pull away.

It's odd, but not in a bad way- I've done this with strangers before, but I've never known them the way I know him. I predict his reactions with near perfect accuracy: he inhales sharply through his nose, lips parting slightly enough for me to begin caressing them with my own. He gives no visible response even as I'm pulling away with an extreme measure of self control. The reactions I don't predict, such as the way he follows me back down a few centimeters before hurriedly jerking back, are welcome all the same.

"Can..." he starts after his initial shock has worn off. Licking his lips once, he tries to speak once more. "Can you...d-do that again?"

_Hell._ I think he means another innocent brush like the one I've just performed, but now he's just _asking _for it.

Next thing he knows he's on his back, head colliding with the armrest as I hover over him. Tsukishima winces briefly in discomfort and then goes wide-eyed behind his lenses, presumably at the dark expression on my face. I dip closer to him slowly, savoring the way he shudders under me but offers no complaint. It's as if something snaps when my lips close on his again and he reaches up to grip my shoulders lightly, tilting his face up with an uncertain hum. I'm _shaking_.

Screw self control.

Tsukishima gasps when I nip on his bottom lip, and I take the opportunity to slip my tongue inside his mouth, tasting him for the first time. He's trying to respond, I can tell, but I'm not too concerned as long as he continues to allow me to push nearer. Oxygen becomes an issue all too soon, and I'm immediately relocating my attentions to the skin of his neck. He lets out a wobbly exhale. I've always heard others say that the quiet ones are loudest in this situation, but Tsukishima is just as consistently hushed and I find that I don't mind because actions such as the rough tugs on my hair are letting me know exactly how he feels.

I've left a noticeable mark on his neck, right in a place that he couldn't use the scarf to hide, and I examine it with satisfaction before flicking my gaze up to the writer's face. His eyes are closed as he breathes harshly. I've obviously paused for too long because he opens them to look at me curiously, and it hits me just how _okay _he is with my possessive nature. I'm fully prepared to get back into what I was doing, and I'm unraveling his scarf when suddenly, my phone goes off and I don't think I've ever, ever hated the sound more than I do now.

"Hello?" I have to answer it; any call could be important at any time. I try to keep my voice calm. Tsukishima hasn't ceased to be enticing beneath me, and I'm resisting the temptation to throw the device across the room.

"Psyche here! Tsuki-kun says that he'll transfer if you do, and we've looked into your records, and you're really good at your job, aren't you? We could always use new managers, too! So, should I bring the paperwork today or tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow," I say impatiently. I've had it with this guy and I'm hoping that Tsukishima and I don't see a lot of him around YS.

Psyche giggles unnervingly. "Alright! I can't wait to work alongside you, Roppi-chan!" The sound of his hanging up is music to my ears.

"You're going to transfer?" Tsukishima questions, a sunny smile spreading.

"Yeah," I reply, resuming my work on his scarf. I'm starting to not care where I work as long as I can keep this man.

"T-...thank you," says my author sincerely, seemingly unaware of the fact that I'm trying to get his clothes off. I roll my eyes and don't bother with a response since I'm doing it mostly for myself.

"But, Roppi-san, if you really want to stay with Dollars...I mean, you've been with them for a long time..." Tsukishima trails off abruptly as his scarf slides onto the floor. He probably feels exposed already without it; the author is hopelessly attached, having been wearing the thing since before I even met him. I, however, am happy to see it go, because now I can pull his bowtie off and start on the buttons of his vest. This is most likely too fast for him, but it's not near quick enough for me. I grumble as I reach the next layer of his clothing. There's a whole new column of buttons waiting for me to attend to them, and Tsukishima stares up at me with big eyes, mouth slightly parted. I support my weight with one hand and work on unbuttoning his dress shirt with the other, lurching up to kiss him. I'm liking this more than I ever thought I would, and I don't plan on letting my writer escape anytime soon.

"Sit up for a second," I halt suddenly and huff in annoyance. He blinks at me before obeying, clearly conflicted as to whether he should allow me to continue or not. "If you want me to stop you should say so now, Tsukishima," I tell him irritably. Granted, even if he expressed his concern I probably still wouldn't stop, but I figure that this will at least get his attention. I pull his vest and shirt off and push him back down, the clothes falling to join the scarf on the floor.

The author bites his lip and shakes his head without a word. Not wasting any time, I roll my hips against his experimentally. Neither of us are fully erect yet, but it still sparks a quiver of arousal, and so I do it again and elicit a gasp from the man under me. I fully doubt whether he has any experience with this, but he's rocking back hesitantly now and it somehow feels better knowing that he's not going to lay there and let me do all the work. If his face wasn't already rouge red then he'd be blushing brighter than a police light in the dark. Even talking about this type of thing is embarrassing for him, as I know from experience.

I'm not only taking in his facial expressions, but the almost-sounds he's making. Hearing every inhale and exhale that's interrupted by our activities is, I'll admit, turning me on more than it should. I love knowing what I'm doing to him. Tsukishima peeks open his eyes slightly, and upon noticing my careful observance promptly shuts them again and turns his head away. I'm still grinding on him and he's a little more open with reciprocating; it feels like heaven to me so it must feel good for him and he knows he's doing it right. However, I'm not too happy that he doesn't want me to see- he's _mine_, after all, and I'm not planning on telling nor showing him to anyone else. I duck down to nibble on his collarbone, forced into changing the direction of the movement of my hips while I'm at it.

I'm the first one out of the two of us to groan.

Reaching down and fumbling for Tsukishima's zipper, I leave his skin in order to tug the object down to his ankles; the friction will be so much better without the extra layer, and I quickly shuck my own jeans off, claiming his mouth yet again. I'm not aiming on going all the way, not yet- I know that Tsukishima is probably deathly scared of penetration, whether he'd be giving or receiving. But my thoughts are quickly scattered as he snaps his hips towards my own, sending a shock of pleasure through both of us, ripping another moan from my throat. My thrusting is becoming steadily more frantic. I still have my coat on, and Tsukishima grabs onto it for support, clenching and relaxing his fists. I know he won't tear it. The blonde unexpectedly breaks off from the kiss, panting.

He locks eyes with me then, crimson with ruby, and says my name for the first time since we began with such softness and fervor that my release comes a split second before his.

I sink onto his chest while his arms come up to embrace me, and I amusedly note that they're trembling, just like the rest of him. The stickiness is uncomfortable in my boxers, but I'm unwilling to get off of him and Tsukishima seems perfectly fine with not letting me go. I feel utterly at peace- not tired, just calm. It's not awkward, like I had feared, and-

_And my phone rings._

"**What?**" I nearly snarl into the speaker, because I've unfortunately memorized Psyche's number by now.

"Roppi-chan! You said today, right?"

"Psyche, I said _tomorrow._"

"Oh, you did? Oh, I'm so sorry, Roppi-chan! I mean, I thought you said today, so I'm kind of at Tsuki-kun's door right now with everything you two need, so could you come get them real quick? Thanks!"

I decide that Psyche of YS Publishing will someday be a very poor, very miserable man.


	4. Chapter 4

A few days later, Tsukishima and I find ourselves waiting outside the door of Shizuo Heiwajima's personal office.

My author flinches as a crashing sound is heard from the inside, accompanying the myriad of yelling and shouting. I sigh and lean against the wall behind me, shoving my hands into my pockets; of course we had to pick the exact time that Izaya decided to visit in order to wrap up everything we needed to with our transfer. It's made even worse because I'm fairly certain that I've heard mine and Tsukishima's names mentioned several times, confirming the reason for this round of fighting, and also successfully increasing the guilt I'm sure the writer already feels. It doesn't make sense to me- if he wants to work for YS, then he should work for YS. It's not as if Izaya has any particular partiality to him. I've worked there for much longer than he has and don't have any qualms about leaving. Then again, I've never been one to make attachments.

The sound of someone pushing a chair out rumbles to our ears, causing both of us to turn our heads towards the noise. A moment later none other than Delic walks out of one of the offices leading up to Shizuo's, scratching his head while staring down at a stack of stapled papers. He glances up and stops when he notices us standing idly. Another object's flight and a string of curses are detected from within the other room, and understanding graces his features.

"Oh," he says, "I guess now's a bad time to show him this review, huh?"

"D-...does this happen a lot?" Tsukishima inquires nervously. His fingers toy with the end of his scarf.

"Oh, yeah," replies Delic casually, coming to wait outside with us, "Sometimes we like to listen in. Kinda funny how oblivious they are."

My author's eyebrows furrow. "Oblivious?"

"You know, to all that sexual tension." Shizuo has often searched Izaya out just as Izaya has clearly done to Shizuo today, and I can see how Delic came to his conclusion, but Tsukishima appears stunned by this revelation. He doesn't have the chance to press further, however, as Psyche trips out of Delic's office, shrugging on his coat with pursed lips. I attempt to keep my glare controlled. I had no idea he was even in the building, and I'm still bitter towards his constant pestering. "Did he refuse again, Psyche?" Delic calls to him.

The dark-haired man spins around on his heel, vibrant pink eyes narrowed slightly. "I don't get it! He would only benefit from joining up with a bigger company, and he doesn't want to work for Dollars, so the only choice left would be here! I'm going to go talk some sense into him- Oh, hi, Tsuki-kun, Roppi-chan."

"Hello," Tsukishima greets politely. I merely frown.

"Yup, that guy is kind of strange," Delic chuckles, "I've never met an author that doesn't leap for the chance to get paid more. Although, I don't know if he'd be able to expect much more, since macho-man in there keeps breaking everything."

My mind immediately connects these small details with Tsugaru, and apparently so does my writer's. "Um...who are you talking about, exactly?"

"This guy named Tsugaru. Really great writer, Shizuo wants to take him under our wing, blah blah blah. Once Psyche gets asked to recruit someone he doesn't give up, ever," says Delic.

_Yes, we've figured that, _I want to reply, but Psyche is pouting now and Tsukishima is speaking. "H-He prefers to work in a position where he feels most relaxed, though..." I know he's only trying to get Psyche off of Tsugaru's back, but just like that, he's given the other man a useful tool for him to complete the job.

"You know Tsu-chan?" Psyche grins eagerly, catching on fast. "Great, then you can come with me! I'm sure he'll be happy to see a friend, Tsuki-kun!"

And before I can growl at someone else touching Tsukishima so familiarly, Psyche has grabbed his hand and taken off, giggling as the blonde stumbles along behind him. I'm left alone with Delic, and with no sign of Izaya and Shizuo's argument stopping.

:

"_So,_" Tsuki nearly flinched at the cheerfully devious tone of Psyche's voice, "how are you and Roppi-chan doing, Tsuki-kun?"

If Tsuki's attention hadn't been so focused on the way Psyche was walking backwards and pretty much forcing everyone coming towards them to swerve around him, he might have blushed at remembering the last time he'd seen Psyche. It'd been incredibly awkward opening the door for the recruiter (after hurriedly tugging most of his clothes back on, no less), only for the other's gaze to drop right to his neck and then latch on to Roppi, who stood just behind him. Even now, Tsuki was wearing his scarf higher than usual. It might have looked a little funny, but... "Oh," Tsuki said, suddenly realizing that he had been asked a question, "Everything's...um, fine..." The reply trailed off into a question; Tsuki wasn't entirely sure if he felt comfortable discussing things of _that _nature with Psyche.

"Oh, really? That's good to hear!" Psyche hummed, spinning once in place. A frazzled looking businessman scowled as he avoided the man's flailing arms.

"Um, a-are we..." Tsuki began tentatively, "Are we walking all the way there?"

Psyche laughed. "No, silly! We're taking the subway, of course. It would be so much more convenient if Tsu-chan lived closer, though," he added as an afterthought, appearing reflective.

Nodding, Tsuki bit his lip, lapsing into silence for lack of anything to say. There was an entrance close to where they were at, luckily enough. The blonde wasn't sure if he could take too much more of the floundering quiet.

His companion all but hopped down the stairs and twirled over to the spot where other passengers were waiting to buy their tickets, earning a couple confused stares. Tsuki followed more slowly, gripping his scarf out of habit, unfortunately not noticing that this motion tugged the cloth downwards. If Psyche noticed, he didn't point it out, just grinned slightly bigger.

"There's two stops from here to Tsugaru's," Tsuki informed Psyche just in case.

Psyche let out a giggle. "I know that, Tsuki-kun! I've been to Tsu-chan's place before!"

Wondering just how many times that had been, Tsuki purchased his ticket after Psyche and moved to stand with him on the platform, waiting.

Some time later the pair stood in front of the older blonde's door. "Tsu-chan!" called Psyche happily, knocking on the wood. Instantly a dog started to bark, others joining the cacophony only a second later, claws scraping on hardwood floors in a mad dash to get to the visitor. Tsuki couldn't help but jump- the dogs had never had that reaction to _him _before. Psyche seemed used to it and wriggled in anticipation.

Tsugaru was slightly slower in answering the door than usual, Tsuki noticed. The other writer barely had time to greet them with a surprised glance at Tsuki before at least four canines launched themselves at Psyche, howling.

Panicking, Tsuki cast a stricken glance to Tsugaru, vexed at the resigned expression on his friend's face. Did Psyche really come around to bother him often enough that he would let his dogs attack him like that?

But Psyche had his arms outstretched, and upon being sent sprawled on the floor, let out a high-pitched shriek of glee. The dogs were absolutely ecstatic, licking every area of skin they could reach, whining. Psyche rose to his knees so that he could pet every one, smiling in for once genuine bliss.

Tsugaru appeared to be caught between gazing fondly at the scene and looking slightly distressed, but moved out of the way so that Tsuki could enter and Psyche could lead the posse of dogs inside nonetheless. Psyche cooed at his worshippers all the while.

"The dogs seem like they like you a lot," Tsuki observed, still a bit shaken from his earlier shock.

"Yeah," Psyche agreed, scratching one behind the ear, "They never lie, and they always take everything for face value! They're so trusting!"

Tsuki wasn't sure if that was the best reason to like dogs, but it was a reason, at least. He couldn't help but feel that maybe Psyche was comparing the animals to people.

"Psyche, I...appreciate you coming all the way out here, but-"

"Tsuki-kun!" The recruiter cut Tsugaru off without a second thought, tugging at Tsuki's sleeve. "Weren't there so many nice people, at YS? Wasn't it really fun? You thought so too, right?"

Meeting Tsugaru's exasperated blue eyes, Tsuki wished for the first time that his visit with the other author would go by quickly.

:

Admittedly, there had been some strange events at the workplace with Dollars, but...nowhere near as unsettling as the activity that two of the employees are now partaking in. I quickly attribute this to a woman wearing all black, including a dark hat that covers chocolate brown hair. The twinkle in her eyes is more like a hawk seeking out prey than anything poetry has likened a sparkle in a girl's gaze to be.

"Can you hear anything, Karisawa?" Delic asks impatiently. The female in question holds a finger to her lips, presumably for dramatic effect, and tilts her head against the office door slightly.

"Ah! I can hear something!"

"And?" Delic urges. The blonde man squats next to her and attempts to copy what she's doing. It all looks very odd- this is the type of thing one would expect children to do, not _adults_.

Karisawa gasps suddenly, delighted. "Listen, listen!"

I am fully prepared to let them play their little game themselves, but at Karisawa's command, a pair of expectant faces turns to look at me. I figure that while I'm waiting and Tsukishima has been stolen away, it won't hurt. Although, I do admit to being inquisitive as to what's going on behind the door. Sighing for their benefit, I gingerly lower my weight to my knees next to Delic, pushing my ear up close to the door.

"I don't know if you've realized, Shizu-chan, being the protozoan you are, but people generally do not take well to having someone shove them up against a wall and then breathe in their face. I advise you let me go, _now_."

Karisawa looks smug and holds out her hand towards Delic. He huffs and pulls out some money, slapping it into her palm. "You're too good at this, Karisawa."

"I just know a lot about boys in denial," she says proudly and pockets her winnings, "It's all there in BL manga!"

"I still have no idea what the hell BL is, but I believe you."

"Hey, you're from Dollars, right? I came from there too," Karisawa informs me abruptly, "but I transferred here because Shizu-Shizu's door is easier to listen at than Iza-Iza's. Why'd you switch?"

I blink at her misguided reasoning. And did she really just refer to Shizuo and Izaya like that? There are all kinds of abnormal people in this business, I suppose, and I ignore her question; something warns me that I do not want to tell her that I transferred just for Tsukishima.

My phone vibrates. Hurriedly I pull the object out, standing up and walking away from the door, recognizing the number as Tsukishima's. Delic returns to listening to Shizuo and Izaya's conversation while Karisawa stares at me curiously.

"Tsukishima?"

"Roppi-san," he says, voice even quieter than usual. I hear a dog yip in the background. "S-Sorry to disturb you, but...um, can you come over here?"

I'm surprised. "Are you going to be there for a while?"

"I...I don't know, but this is kind of...um."

"Alright, I'll head over," I assure him. It's probably terribly awkward, what with Psyche struggling to bend Tsugaru's will, but I'd rather be over at Tsugaru's with him than here.

"Thanks, Roppi-san," Tsukishima chuckles anxiously. After a moment he hangs up, and I slide my cell back into my pocket.

"Delic, I'll come back tomorrow, so could you let him know that I-"

"You _smiled_!" Karisawa exclaims, pointing an accusatory finger at me. I glance over at Delic, and he merely shrugs. I'm fairly certain that my visage hasn't even twitched. "All right, maybe not completely, but you looked slightly less pissed off! Who's Tsukishima? Hmm?" My lips quirk downwards- I don't know how nor do I want to answer her.

"I'll let Shizuo know that you'll be back," promises Delic, saving me from having to fabricate some sort of reply, "Just tell Psyche to get back here; he's still got work to do."

I nod, stating that I'll do that silently, and hastily escape Karisawa's possible questioning. I'm a little more than anxious to check up on my author.


	5. Chapter 5

I arrive at Tsugaru's and begin immediately to tap on the door, stepping back when I hear footsteps approaching. Tsukishima swings the door open, looking immensely relieved.

"That bad?" I question.

He shakes his head, biting his lip. "Not...that bad, but I'm still really glad that you're here," he admits, making sure to keep his voice down, and I notice that a ginger cat has managed to wrap itself around his leg, purring.

It's been a while since I've been over; Tsugaru is one of the few humans who does not grate on my nerves like nails on a chalkboard, but since I'm neither his manager nor his close friend I just haven't had a reason to stop by. "Has Psyche really been talking to him for an hour?" I'm dubious as to why Tsugaru would stand to keep him around that long.

"No, he stopped talking about YS a while ago, but it's still kind of..." Tsukishima seems to realize that I'm currently still waiting outside and unblocks the entryway, almost tripping over the feline below his feet in the process. As I walk inside, two other cats turn the corner and then stop to stare at me. A gold-feathered bird flutters into the room before dancing out again. It's unusually quiet. Where are the dogs? I turn to Tsukishima, intending to ask him about it, but then notice that he's tugging his scarf back up quickly, as if seeing me has reminded him of the bruised area on his neck.

I decide I'll let it slide for now. Psyche and Tsugaru are no real threats to me, but they've both probably already seen it either way. A smug feeling makes itself at home in my mind. I push that aside for the time being, amused as Tsukishima looks at me nervously through his glasses and then glances away- I know well enough that he wants something, but I'm not kind enough to give it to him without him asking.

I am, however, selfish enough to take whatever _I_ want without asking. I stretch up to brush a light, lingering kiss to his mouth, reminding myself that because he's _mine_I am, by default, the only one allowed to do things such as that. The flush dusting his cheeks is entirely rewarding in its own right as well. I'm considering going back for another more insistent contact, but we've kept Tsugaru waiting alone with Psyche for a little too long.

"Which room are they in?"

"I-I'll show you; just follow me." Tsukishima's slight stutter does not go beyond my hearing. I cover a half-smile with my hand and by glancing away. Upon looking back as he starts to move forward, I catch the hopeful stare he flashes me, and figure that making him stammer even more couldn't hurt.

Tsugaru can deal with Psyche for just a minute more.

Yanking him almost too roughly, I kiss Tsukishima again, tracing the seam of his lips with my tongue. He's unprepared for my sudden movement and stumbles closer to me, mouth parting easily. I don't immediately try to overpower him; instead, I allow him to come to me, earning him a small sound of esteem from my end. The fact that the motions he's enacting are tentative doesn't bother me- it only serves to restate that it's Tsukishima. Some part of my mind tells me that we should stop already, but my mind isn't what's in control as I watch him close his eyes, growing minutely more confident, more willing to try new things with me. Finally he pulls back to breathe, mouth wet with saliva and skin blushing, and I don't gift him much of a recovery time before my lips are back on his, this time exploring _him_, just the way I like. He's only able to allow me to do this for a short time and jerks back again.

"We should r-really g-go check on them," Tsukishima's chest rises and falls, grateful for the oxygen.

Reluctantly I nod, licking my lips. Who knows if they'd heard us, or walked in; I'd been so concentrated that I wouldn't have been aware of an airplane flying low over the house.

:

"Psyche, you said you wanted to help," Tsugaru's patient voice meets our ears as we walk out to his small backyard, only to find that a sort-of plastic tub has been lugged over and filled with soapy water. A comically unhappy mixed breed whines lowly, not enjoying the bath he's recieving at all.

"Oh, don't complain, it's your fault for getting out in the first place and rolling in the dirt," Psyche scolds good-naturedly, "Oh, and I am helping, Tsu-chan! See, I'm holding him down!"

And he is, even if maybe his grip is a little loose and looks more like a hug than anything else. Psyche's fur-lined coat has been abandoned, leaving the plain black longsleeve he's wearing to get thouroughly soaked with the dog's flailing.

I personally admire Tsugaru's self-control; I would have been snapping at Psyche long ago.

"Um, do you need help...?"

"Oh," he finally notices Tsukishima and I, "Don't worry about it. We're almost done. Hello, Hachimenroppi," Tsugaru smiles at me. He's changed into an old T-shirt and a pair of worn jeans, presumably in order to avoid getting his normal attire wet and dirty. I give him a small nod in return, hoping it doesn't come across as grumpy. I'm just not one for big, cheerful hellos, even with people I like.

"Are you sure?" Tsukishima's inquiry is doubtful.

Tsugaru glances at the Psyche and then the canine he's trying to wash. "...It's fine."

Laughing, Psyche rubs the dog's ears, distracting it while the blonde man dumps a bucket of water over the animal's head. As soon as the dog registers the feeling, however, it stiffens, and I'm backing up with the assumption that it will begin shaking itself. Thankfully, Psyche delivers a well-placed scratch under the mix's chin. Tsugaru actually looks a little pleased.

"Alright, we're finished," he announces.

"Hooray!" responds Psyche, throwing his arms up in the air. The freed dog leaps out of the tub, showering the black-haired man with water before taking off, yipping.

Psyche appears to suffer momentary shock.

"I have extra clothes, even if they might not fit," Tsugaru says quickly. Nodding numbly, Psyche wipes some of the moistness off of his nose. I'm secretly congratulating the dog.

Tsukishima fights to hide a smile, running off to catch the runaway. After staring at Psyche and Tsugaru for a second, I go to follow him. It takes at least ten minutes to catch the mutt; I decide immediately thereafter that I am a cat person, even if this particular dog did do some amount of good. At least you don't have to give cats baths.

"I'm sorry about all that," Tsugaru says as we pull the canine up to be dried off. It growls under the weight of a thick blue towel, being scrubbed earnestly by a now-dry Psyche wearing clothes that are obviously too large. It's not Tsugaru's fault for being so tall, though. "I'm going to go change; I'll be right back," he adds apologetically, taking hold of the dog and bringing it inside.

"Okay!" Psyche chirps. I roll my eyes. Tsukishima fidgets in the silence that follows, looking from me, to Psyche, and back again. "Hey, Tsuki-kun, do you know the dog's name?" He grabs onto the writer's sleeve, causing Tsukishima to have to slump over slightly. I'm instantly glaring daggers at him, warning. _Not that close._ Psyche merely pretends as if he hasn't seen the look on my face and leans _closer_, "Tsu-chan won't tell me, so do you know?"

"Um...they don't really have names, but..." Tsukishima sends an uncomfortable look my way. I step closer without thinking. I'm not sure what I'm aiming to do, but it bugs me that Psyche knows _just how to push my buttons_and I'm wishing that he had some weakness I could exploit. For better or for worse, Psyche lets Tsukishima go in order to frolic into the house. I sigh frustratedly.

"Sorry," Tsukishima says. Of course he assumes that it's his fault that Psyche loves to bother me.

"Let's just go inside," I suggest. Tsukishima nods once and follows me in; we step carefully around where Psyche has plopped himself down with the newly-washed dog.

Abruptly I remember what Delic asked of me. "Psyche, don't you still have work to do?"

"Huh?" He turns to stare at me for a second before gasping dramatically, "Oh no! You're right! Tell Tsu-chan I'll talk to him tomorrow!" Psyche dashes to get his coat- still wearing the author's clothes, he tumbles in the direction of the entrance, tugging his phone out and dialing frantically. "Delic?" is the last thing we hear him say before Tsugaru's front door slams shut.

"Finally," I sigh irritably. Tsukishima bites his lip, probably not liking how I can show my disdain so openly. The word _work_has me thinking of something, however. "Tsukishima, have you written anything lately?" The fact that I haven't noticed this means that I'm neglecting my duties as a manager.

My writer lets a stricken expression infect his features, shaking his head in realization and dismay. "I...I haven't written anything at all..!"

"Well, since you transferred, you haven't gotten a deadline yet. Just make sure you keep up with everything," I advise. A little procrastination turns into a big problem, as the entirety of the humans race knows but chooses to ignore.

"I will..." he hesitates momentarily, "D-do you want...to stay over again tonight?"

It takes him all his courage to ask even the simplest of questions. "Alright," Accepting his offer simply, I reflect that I haven't slept at his apartment since...well, we made that huge breakthrough with our relationship. Would the atmosphere be any different than the other times?

Tsugaru returns clad in his usual blue and white yukata, glancing around warily for Psyche. We spend only fifteen more minutes mingling before Tsukishima's anxiety about his writing gets the best of him, and we say goodbye and then are boarding the subway within the next ten. We sit close together, my leg pressed up against his even though there are many seats open, and he looks happy so I allow him to tentatively reach for my hand, fingers trailing along the back of my palm in a gentle motion. He doesn't look at me when I turn my hand over, his resting over it. I can still see that he's positively beaming. It's a little contagious- my mouth curves into a light, inconspicuous smile. The elderly woman across from us stares disapprovingly, but I could care less about her bitter sentiments. I've discovered that I have another way to announce that Tsukishima is off-limits.

As the subway screeches in to our stop, Tsukishima picks up my hand more firmly, slipping his pinky finger between my pointer and middle. I raise my eyebrows; I've never seen this type of hand holding before, but if Tsukishima likes it, then it won't hurt. His hand is slightly sweating, and while this factor should bother me it really does not. As we exit the subway, Tsukishima makes sure that we aren't separated.

It's a short journey from the station to his home. The sun sets in the distance, creating a relaxed air that lingers even until Tsukishima lets go of me to fiddle with his keys. He covers a yawn. "Tired already?"

"Ah, yeah...I'm sorry," he replies, swinging the door open before I have the mind to scold him for apologizing so much for things beyond his control.

"It's alright; we can just head to bed early."

"Um...you can, if you want, but...I want to write a little."

Well, if he insists. "I'll stay up."

Tsukishima's white laptop bag lies on top of the coffee table, and he gingerly removes the device from its confines, settling down on the couch. It's a familiar routine- I head into the small kitchen in order to fix two glasses of cool, relieving ice water. Upon reappearing in Tsukishima's living room, I position myself on the sofa next to him and find that he's already written a considerably large paragraph. He offers me a grateful smile and takes a sip of his own drink, concentrated mostly on his work already. His mouth moves slightly and I know that he's reading the words silently to make certain they're alright. Words are like music to Tsukishima; they can be played differently like instruments, make the audience feel sadness, inspire joy. They can flow very mellifluously, as smooth as soft silk and satin, or crackle like overcooked, crinkly corn on the cob.


	6. Chapter 6

It isn't long before my mind goes to _other _things.

Given where we're seated, it's no surprise. I imagine what would play out if I carefully removed the laptop from Tsukishima's lap, moving closer...but unfortunately, I have a job to do, and it's one that involves making sure that he doesn't stop writing. I squash any dangerous images that invade my brain, taking a gulp of water, ice tapping my lip in what I take as a reminder to keep things cooled down. Still, would it really hurt? There would always be time tomorrow for the writer to work.

With one glance at Tsukishima, I banish the idea. He is completely focused and wears the expression that only artists can take on when they're creating something wonderful. I might be selfish, but I have a lenient side when it comes to his writing.

I'm just beginning to nod off from sitting still for so long when he finally saves his document and yawns widely, eyelids drooping. "Roppi-san, I'm going to bed now..."

"Alright," I reply and stand, "I'll take the-" _Couch_, I had been about to say, but was that necessary now? We both stop; an awkward silence ensues.

"Um...you can...you know...i-if you want!"

Tsukishima blushes furiously and rises next to me, looking determined. I raise an eyebrow. "If I want?" I'm just teasing- honestly, I know what he wants, but it's so much more entertaining to pretend I don't.

"Roppi-san," he pleads helplessly.

I smile in response, already on my way to his room. "Do you usually sleep on the left or right side, Tsukishima?" I call over my shoulder. Once inside his space I examine the area, only having been in here a couple times.

"Um...left," replies Tsukishima, moving past me to the dresser. Normally he lends me one of his shirts to wear so that I don't retire in my day outfit; tugging out a navy blue T-shirt, he hands it to me hesitantly. Instantly I'm removing my jacket and hanging it over the chair I find partnered with a small desk in one corner, pulling my black long sleeve over my head, replacing it with Tsukishima's shirt and inhaling lightly. It smells like him. I leave the pants, though- they won't be much of a bother, unless...

Upon returning my stare to the other, I find that he hasn't budged an inch. His face is turned away politely.

"Tsukishima."

"W-what?"

"You're allowed to look at me, you know."

The writer bites his lip and at long last goes to fish out something to wear to bed as well. "I-I know..."

Sighing, I pad over to the bed itself. It's pushed up in a corner, a wall against the right side and behind the headboard, a quaint nightstand situated next to it. I don't think twice about lifting the fluffy white covers on the piece of furniture up and slipping under them, scooting to the right side. My eyes slip closed as I revel in the comfort of Tsukishima's bed. I had been right about it smelling like him, because the scent is coming at me from all sides.

My author finishes changing. I hear the soft clink of his glasses being set down for the night, and then the flick of the light switch before everything goes dark. Weight sinks down next to me and cold air rushes into an opening as he arranges himself properly, reaching out to bring me closer.

I'm not used to cuddling and I'm not sure if I can fall asleep like this, but Tsukishima is a hopeless romantic, and the more I find myself indulging him the more I find myself satisfied with it. His head rests on top of mine, warm breath tickling my scalp like a pleasant summer breeze. I believe most humans refer to this as 'spooning'.

I'm lulled into drowsiness by the heat alone. One of my biggest pet peeves is sleeping cold, which seems to work out well because the blonde whose breathing I can _feel_ likes to sleep _close_. He mumbles goodnight and his grip around me slackens, as if he's falling into dreamland already. I frown. The couch incident is still heavy on my mind.

Is that all I get?

I'm faced with an immediate dilemma. Do I insist upon waking him up, or do I let him get sleep that he most likely needs desperately? Writing is hard work, and there will definitely be bags under his eyes in the morning as it is now, but I'm still impatient because we might not have a chance tomorrow. We have to visit the YS building again, after all.

Mulling it over only briefly, I decide on the first option.

"Tsukishima," I turn over to prod his shoulder to the best of my abilities. My arm is pressed up to my chest from the position that we're in.

"...mmm?"

I have to get his attention without freaking him out, somehow. On one hand, if I'm too straightforward, he'll withdraw into an embarrassed lump on the other side of the bed from me, but on the other hand, I can't be too indirect. "Don't you want to do anything?"

He's a bit more coherent when he asks, "Do what?" I haven't been clear enough, and I sigh into his neck. I'll have to hope that he isn't scared away by something blunter.

"Fool around." The writer tenses at the implication, cheeks warming to the point where I don't even have to look to observe the heat. "Tsukishima?"

He swallows hard. "Y-...You...d-do you want to?"

"That's why I'm asking." Why would I bring it up if I didn't want to?

"O-Okay," the blonde says, obviously nervous, "Okay." I read the undertone of his agreement as _but I don't know what to do_.

First of all, he needs to relax. The way I tilt my head to find the spot where I'd marked him before probably does not help that cause, nor does the way I scrape my teeth lightly over the still-healing bruise. His breathing pattern changes slightly, as if he's anticipating my next action, and I let my voice drop to a hushed note, "How much did you get done today, writing?"

It's a random question and he is no doubt confused, but I'm going to try to see if the almost-there noises are even more starkly noticeable while he's talking. He's just starting to answer when I scoot myself back for a little more mobility for my hands, and I trail my fingers lightly down his chest, a feather light pressure. "I-I wrote half of a chapter, a-about the same as half of the last one..." His rhythm of inhale-exhale grows more shallow, and in the dark I can hear it even clearer; my fingertips are skimming the skin at his hip, skirting the waistband of his boxers, "and I went back and a-added in some...some-" My wandering digits sneak below the fabric, just barely. "Um..."

"Some what?" I inquire. Perhaps I'm a sadist for wanting him to keep speaking, but I don't particularly care, as long as he continues to let me have my way.

"F-Figurative language," he clarifies, the warm skin under my hand shaking lightly as it had before.

"I saw you had some good dialogue."

"Well, you did tell me to...work on verisi-" I did indeed tell him to work on verisimilitude in dialogue, but I cut him off by at long last curling my palm around his halfway-at-attention member. Tsukishima's voice box is still working on speech and this time, the breath he forces out at the sudden onslaught of pleasure carries a soft hum, the closest thing to a moan I've ever heard him free and _hell _if it doesn't turn me on even more than I had been before then.

His fingers clench from where they are still pressed against my back. I begin to slide the hand entrapping his cock up and down, mimicking how I know I like it. "You're allowed to touch me, you know," I inform him, breathing labored, replacing _look_ with _touch_ because that's what I want him to do to me right now.

"Y-yeah," is all Tsukishima says before lapsing into silence, but his hand on my back glides at a leisurely pace like sunlight peeking through leaves down lower, and then quickly up again as if he fears he's done something wrong. He doesn't know what he's doing, but he's trying.

My grip on him is unhurried; I don't want him to find release before he finds courage enough to copy what I'm doing. He doesn't seem inclined to lose clothing- and I'm perfectly fine with that because I know we'll get there someday.

"Is this a new story, or a continuation?"

"A...a new one-"

"Oh?" I'm not quite at a whisper yet, and my eyes have adjusted to the dark enough for me to catch the debilitated expression he flashes towards me, pleading with me not to make him talk while I decide to pump him slightly rougher. "What's it about?"

If he doesn't want to answer, he doesn't have to, but Tsukishima doesn't like to ignore questions. His hips shift closer to my hand. "It's, i-it's about..." He squeezes his eyes shut momentarily. I attribute the next bravery he exhibits to his concentration on the sensations and on speaking, an enjoyable tingling sent through my veins as he allows his hand to drift tremulously to my hip, to the bare skin where the shirt has ridden up slightly. I'm urging him on silently, _just a little more...!_, and the warmth of his palm is abruptly flooding into my stomach, not quite where I want it to be but close.

He stops and snags his bottom lip with his teeth and shoves his hips forward again, minutely, just once. Tsukishima's self control is astounding, and normally I admire it, but it's taking over habitually now and stopping him from pleasing the both of us. "You don't have to hold back," I say. My eyes are half-lidded, watching him carefully.

The journey of his hand continues as he nods, appearing only a small portion more relieved. I wait until the writer is working hesitantly at the button on my pants before resuming my work on his cock, keeping him aroused and happy while not bringing him fully off, wishing he'd just hurry up because I'm seconds away from just rolling on top of him and performing a repeat of the couch incident. Once his fumbling fingers have gotten the button undone and my zipper down I lean up to reward him with a kiss, feeling his harsh breathing against my tongue and my teeth and my mouth and mine catching at the thrill of those fingers on me, finally. I'm aching for him to put them to good use.

The first few jerking movements of his hand are purely experimental, but I sigh an encouragement anyways. I draw him down for another kiss- we're still lying on our sides facing each other, but I don't stop to think about saliva that might get on the bed sheets because the only things I can concentrate on are that kiss and Tsukishima's palm on me and mine on him, feeling heated skin pulse under my attentions.

He releases quietly after only a minute. When I pull back from him to groan lightly, his lips glisten wetly in the dark, evidence of my intrusion. I remove my soiled hand from his pants and rock my hips in tandem with his touches, trailing my gaze over his body until I stare him full in the face, and he stares back like I'm something _amazing _and it sends me over the edge, over that familiar precipice of complete surrender and bliss.

We flounder for air together afterwards, recovering, until he says, with a _shyshyshy_smile, "I wonder...why it is we always m-mess up our clothes."

I grin and roll over him in order to get to his dresser and locate some extra underwear to borrow, at least for the night.


	7. Chapter 7

Neither of us claim to be world class chefs, and so it's without complaint that we fix slightly undercooked eggs and slightly overcooked toast for each other in the morning. I've long since gotten used to the surreal amount of grape jelly Tsukishima likes to use; he also pours syrup carefully onto the eggs, just enough to lightly coat the area under the food. I like my toast with butter and my eggs with a dash of pepper and nothing else to distract from it. Still, I always wonder quietly to myself just where he got his insatiable sweet tooth from- I've never met his family and, thankfully, I have none of my own.

"When do you think we should leave?" Tsukishima asks vaguely, seated across from me and looking exhausted. It's no surprise to me that I don't feel an ounce of guilt, just a dull smugness that part of that tired demeanor is my fault.

I chew routinely and swallow my bite of eggs. "The office opens in around an hour, so we'll head out in about half that time." Half an hour gives us time to relax, if we need to. I also want to get there early just in case Shizuo has any appointments or Izaya decides to visit again.

This time makes sense to him, and so he nods, shoveling the last bite of his smothered toast into his mouth. I note with well-hidden amusement that whatever is in the jelly is turning the edges of his teeth a diffident shade of violet, and with a moment of impulse that is odd in my case I stand up from my seat just enough to reach across the small table and grasp his neck. He doesn't make a sound, as he is wont to do, but I hear the telltale thud of his hand falling to the table as I swipe my tongue around those teeth. It doesn't count as a kiss at all but I enjoy teasing him, pulling backwards as soon as the brief movement is completed. He stares at me with wide eyes and a flush swooping through his cheeks and across his nose.

"W-what was that?"

I hadn't really expected the tinge of his teeth to be cleared by merely that, and his question allows me to see that I was right and the color purple still lingers. "The jelly left a stain," I state simply, lips twitching upwards at the corners.

"Y-...Oh, then...you should have just told me, Roppi-san," he replies nervously, not knowing whether or not I'm being serious, "I can just go brush my teeth..."

Had I been anyone else, I would have said something witty like _I'll be your toothbrush_but that's too cheesy for me, and so I don't utter a word before going back for a more thorough job of cleaning.

:

One hour and fifteen minutes later, I'm pressing the metallic button that signals the elevator to take us to the sixth floor of YS's building of operation. Tsukishima shuffles from one foot to the other next to me; we're finally going to be able to walk in and talk to our new boss, and while first impressions _are_generally important, they're even more critical with a short-fused man like Shizuo Heiwajima. It's also somehow only just occurred to me that if Shizuo wished, he could take me off of Tsukishima and assign me a new author, one who'll be nothing like him.

It's a stunning revelation, to be honest. Usually I think things through- how could I not have even considered it? Just because the writer and I arrived together doesn't mean we'll automatically stay together.

But, as soon as the panic sets in, it fades away as I realize that I can still be around Tsukishima just as much (maybe only a little less). My possessiveness won't transfer to this new author. As much as it irks me, as much as I simmer in fire at the thought of it, I can withstand taking care of someone else if I have to.

Tsukishima fingers the strap of the messenger bag that has always served as the transportation for his laptop anxiously as the elevator dings with our arrival. The sleek steel doors slide open briskly, allowing us to walk out to the hallway we had traversed the previous day in order to reach Shizuo's office. We're walking past Psyche and Delic's workroom when an abrupt and haughty voice grates through our hearing range.

"You said it's good. So publish it!"

"Kid, I'm sorry, but you can't just walk in here and do that. How old are you, anyways?"

"I am sixteen," the voice answers Delic, "but I don't see how that matters in the slightest. I write well, so there shouldn't be any problems with publishing it."

"I said the writing was good, yeah, but the story is bland. Have you gotten an editor to look this over?"

"...no. And I never asked for your opinion, peasant."

"Did you seriously just call me a peasant? And kid, you had no problem with me giving my input on what I said was good."

Tsukishima and I glance at each other as we walk past. Whoever this teenager is has no idea how the entire process of writing a book works if he can't even accept criticism. Then again, Delic's business is none of our own- and so I lead my author over to Shizuo's office door, raising a fist to tap on the dark wood. We each compose ourselves because we're finally going to be able to introduce ourselves to our boss, without any interference from Izaya and it really is nerve-wracking even for me.

"...fuck, do that again- fuck-"

"You always use such...unrefined language, Shizu-chan. You should- ah, work on that..."

"Just shut up, _fuck_!"

"Shizu-chan, what do you think I'm, ah..."

Tsukishima and I turn to stare at each other. His eyes are wide behind his lenses as my knuckles stay frozen a fraction away from hitting the door. It's not a comforting thought that the deciding factor in Shizuo and Izaya's eventual snap is most likely our transfer, and I slowly lower my hand.

"...l-let's go see what Delic is doing," he suggests.

I nod and he tugs me swiftly away from the door, saving our ears from retaining any more narration of the activities going on inside. We head into Delic's office just as his guest heads out; he's frowning because he hasn't gotten his way, but at the sight of Tsukishima his expression slackens in disbelief and he hurries away. It hits me as he turns a corner and out of sight that this was the costumed boy at Tsukishima's signing. They have the same brass gold eyes and he still wears the crown of the outfit perched upon coal-black locks, though he's abandoned the body of it for something more 'normal'. The entire ensemble looks a bit...eccentric, but to each their own.

"I swear..." Delic grumbles, coming out to stand next to us. "Oh, you guys are back. Talked to Shizuo yet?" Mine and Tsukishima's garnet eyes meet, and the writer shakes his head, biting his lip. "Why not?"

"Is Karisawa here?" I inquire, my smile thin.

"Nope. Neither's Psyche. He ran off to Tsugaru's a while ago- left in such a rush that he forgot to put some files away. Guess he got some idea, or something," the blonde's lips quirk downwards, "Speaking of which, he was looking at your files. Wonder why...but wait, what do you need Karisawa for?"

"We'll probably be waiting here for a bit," I muse, ignoring his question.

"Wait, wait. Does this have something to do with Shizuo and Izaya?" Delic's fuschia eyes glitter with gleeful assumptions, but it's not the same as when Psyche's do it because Delic is purely playful while Psyche has a clear goal in mind.

I don't get the chance to answer (or not answer) him. Karisawa barrels in via the elevator, and there's a moment of shock as I assume that somehow she _knows_ what Shizuo and Izaya are doing, and that would just be disturbing and all _kinds_of unnerving, but she merely smiles at us.

"Whew, it's windy outside!" Oh, good. A normal conversation. "Did you know that when it's really windy, two men are having passionate, beautiful hatesex somewhere?" she inquires eagerly, and while she doesn't appear to _know_, the effect on the surrounding area is still the same. Tsukishima starts blushing profusely next to me. "Well...I might have made that up, but so far I've never been wrong! And that's what counts, right? Anyways, who's that? He's so moemoe and cute!" She gazes at Tsukishima expectantly.

"Oh, that's Tsuki," Delic replies, "You know, the new author."

An extremely predatory expression eases its way onto her facial features (apparently she remembers my phone call) and she looks back and forth from me and my writer. I'm already aware of what's coming, but unluckily for Tsukishima, he is not.

"What's your relationship with Roppichin? Is he your lover?" Karisawa gives a little squeal of excitement at the thought. It's not so much the questions but the _nickname_ that sends a _shudder_ shrieking through my body. If ever I have to name a reason that I regret leaving Dollars, the _nicknames_that the people here give me will be my first pick. I'm hoping I don't collect any more.

Tsukishima is more preoccupied with Karisawa's interrogation than the fact that my dignity is being slowly chipped away. "U-Um...well..."

Time for Izaya and Shizuo to make themselves useful. "There were interesting noises coming from behind the door when we first got here," I say moderately, as if it's no concern of mine. I see no problem with selling my past and present employers out to this maniac. If they'd wanted privacy, they could've gotten it.

Karisawa is flying over to the door immediately. It's the calmest and most concentrated I've ever seen her appear as she pushes her ear right up to the wood, similar to the way we were yesterday. A short series of squeeks escapes her frame.

I leave her to her own devices, turning my head back to look at Tsukishima. "We can just come back later," I grudgingly assess the situation. As much as I don't like having to wait until Shizuo and Izaya are finished, we don't really have a choice if we want to talk to Shizuo.

"D-...does this mean they'll stop fighting...?" The blonde author asks tentatively.

Karisawa giggles. "No," she explains cheerfully from her position with the happiest grin I have ever seen in my life, "Now it'll just get _worse_!"

I will never understand why females enjoy the existence of couples consisting of two males so greatly. Perhaps it's because they're abnormal, or it's something else that is deeply psychological. I decide not to ponder strange habits and fetishes as Tsukishima and I exit the YS building with a plan to return in two hours.

"Excuse me!" We both glance towards the source of the voice- only to sight the rude high school student with the amber eyes. I can't help but sigh. Haven't we already gathered enough irksome people around us for a lifetime? "You. Leave us."

The command is issued towards _me_. It takes a second to realize that, and my lips pull back into a grin that is more like a snarl. _No one_tells me to get away from Tsukishima. The blonde beside me places a hand on my arm; he's telling me silently to stay. This interaction earns a contemptuous scowl from the third party.

"What do you want?" I don't hide my annoyance with the teenager.

He raises his head haughtily. "You may address me only as Hibiya-sama. You," he continues, locking eyes with Tsukishima, who can't look people in the eye and has to gaze at the ground instead, "are to teach me how to get my novel published. Understood?"


End file.
